Hogwarts' Hunter
by Zeromaru Chaos Mode
Summary: Nobody made, the Goblet. It was found. it was silent. Until someone messed with its purpose. A Fourth of Third was summoned. And that night, the Hunt had come and gone. Yet when all woke. a different Harry Potter would wake with them. One, who survived, the Hunt. Oneshot crossover with Bloodborne. feel free to borrow the story idea if anyone wants.


The first change was the day after. November first. It was subtle. If anyone had decided to truly stand by his side, anyone that had known him for years, known who he truly was and how he reacted, they'd have been able to see the signs immediately.

But none did.

Thus, few noticed the difference in how he held himself. How despite last night's chaotic events and how the vast majority of the school now sent glares and scathing looks his way, he seemed…indifferent.

He sat alone for breakfast.

A passing thought had him sending a letter to Sirius.

" _Name came out of the Goblet. I didn't put it in. So much for a quiet year."_

That was the second sign. And what _truly_ put a fire under the Last Black's ass.

This would continue for two weeks. Classes continued as normal, though even some of the teachers were giving him odd glances. Ones he paid no attention to.

That was the _third_ sign, but the second one that was missed. He usually wore his emotions on his sleeve. Obvious, not vulnerable but sadly easily manipulated.

At least, _before_.

Few looked at him for long other than to glare or glance, though one in particular (that he still did not notice for reasons that would begin to become apparent later) never stopped watching.

Hermione kept her distance. Ron was being a prick. Most of Gryffindor either ignored or sent him sly grins behind his back. The others glared or frowned.

He was alone.

And yet he seemed…compared to two years before, unruffled.

Some would think, were their heads out of their asses, it was a sign of maturity. He'd grown since the twelve-year-old that was shunned as Heir of Slytherin. Which for all he knew, he could have been.

All he knew about his family and bloodline was what everyone else told him.

 _Hmm…maybe something to look into later._

The fourth sign, was when Draco Malfoy showed off the badges that he'd charmed. Or had _had_ charmed. Could never tell with that one.

Seeing the first message, though intended in hostility as it was, Harry blinked to himself. It was one he fully agreed with. He'd had no intention of joining the Tournament, wanting for once just to have a nice, calm year. Cedric truly was the Hogwarts Champion and he'd have gladly stated so.

But of course, Malfoy with the mind of a five year old, revealed the other side.

Potter Stinks.

The Slytherins chuckled at his expense. The Gryffindors growled and wanted vengeance. Ron had a twisted look on his face, torn between idiotic envy fueled anger at Harry, wanting to see him suffer for his lies, and his disdain for all things Malfoy.

Harry himself?

He blinked again.

"…that's it?"

The laughter stopped.

Honestly it had been nearly two weeks since he'd actively _spoken_ to anyone. He didn't answer in classes (not that he was called upon), he didn't talk to anyone further in Gryffindor. In fact it was as if he'd gone mute.

No. he just had little to say to children.

 _Children. Huh. Not any older than them._

But he decided to continue. Saying actual words was not what he was used to for what felt like years.

"Of all the things you could have put, something a five year old could come up with is what you decided on?"

Silence. Until Malfoy started sputtering.

"I've read holiday cards that were more insulting. And _they_ were written as a _joke_."

His words were delivered with an almost…unearthly calm. A disturbing lack of care or feeling. As if it didn't matter to him.

In truth, it didn't. Why _would_ it?

"You would have been better off leaving it with the first message, Malfoy. It almost would have made someone actually like you."

Of course, as he'd expected, the last statement pushed Malfoy over the edge. With the emotional control of a five year old to match his creativity, he drew his wand and launched an unknown spell at Harry.

And yet, the casual sidestep Harry made caught everyone by surprise.

Again, after all he'd been through…

Still, rather than the discharge of a non-detonating spell impacting a wall as he expected, a soft gasp and choked cry was heard instead. Stepping further out of the way of the line of fire he turned his head slightly enough to see what happened.

Hermione had been hit. And her front teeth were becoming enlarged at a fairly rapid rate.

Harry felt uncertain. Part of him, the part that had clung to Hermione as one of his only friends for years, wanted revenge on her behalf. Or at least, to take her to safety. The other part, the part that had been paying _very_ close attention, told him to leave her be to sort out her own mess.

Just like she had done to him this past two weeks.

After all, she'd chosen to do what _they_ did.

…and look what happened to the fools, locking themselves away to revel…

He shook his head, realizing that while being lost in his thoughts, not only had Ron drawn and fired back at Malfoy, but Snape had appeared.

"Look! Hermione got hit!"

Snape simply turned an uncaring eye to the whimpering girl.

"I see no difference."

That.

That was enough.

Malfoy's little spell was weak. Pathetic. Probably a rather painful all things considered but it was something easily reversible.

But what Snape did?

 _That_ lit a fire of rage in Harry's heart.

Just like when _she_ …

His body twitched. He forced himself to calm.

He almost missed Snape giving Ron and him detentions. Though Harry didn't fire a single spell.

 _It ends this year, you sniveling man-child._

The stony silence almost threw Snape off his game. He'd come to drink in the weak hatred the boy sent at him but…

There was _something_ in the last Potter's gaze that disturbed the man. Something… _feral_.

Something that reminded him of the _Dark Lord_.

He brushed the thought aside.

Sadly, he couldn't continue to try to discern the meaning behind the sudden notion of _certain death_ lurking in the Potter boy's eyes. Another Gryffindor, had shown up, claiming demands for Potter's presence. Happy to have another reason to take his eternal hatred of all things Potter on the child, Snape practically yelled at the teen to take his things and leave, that he would fail the day.

Snape, maybe a potions master, but he was in truth, an idiot.

Champions were _excused_ of classes and exams.

Creevey had led Harry to a once abandoned classroom, changed and grown to fit the cause. The reason? A small event called the 'Weighing of the Wands'. A pre-tournament ceremony to ascertain the functionality of the tools the Champions were using. Seeing Krum, Delacour and Diggory already there, Harry realized he was the last one to arrive.

Not that he truly cared.

He ignored everyone else present, save one.

Recognizing an old man sitting in the center of the room, the last Potter went to approach the one he recognized as Ollivander, to inquire his health (the man had made him a tool that had saved his life more times than he could count, you're damn _right_ he's going to say hello) when suddenly he felt a presence behind him.

And a thin hand, with long nails grasp his arm. His body stiffened. His eyes widened. His breath hitched.

 _ **A sudden thin, spindly hand grab his shoulder, pulling him from just past the doorway. A rank stench of decay and filth filled his nostrils as he was suddenly bent backwards. A horrific visage of broken teeth and beady eyes filled his view as the screeching woman lifted something**_ _ **to his face and jammed it through his glasses, right into his eyes.**_

 _ **He couldn't tell if the screaming came from him voicing his agony as the world turned dark, or if it was her cackling screech of a laugh.**_

His left hand lashed up, grabbing the wrist of the spindly hand. His grip was tight and painful, the owner screeching in shock and pain. He whirled around, swinging right arm around and _yanked_. A solid crunch resounded through the room, the creature's arm broken with one swift movement. The screech became shrill.

He didn't see the others recoil at his sudden fast and _violent_ reaction. Many of them had known who the woman was and had entertained thoughts of doing similar but…

Bagman looked horrified but a glint of giddiness was in his eyes. Crouch had drawn his wand and began trying to intervene but Harry was apparently not _done_ yet.

 _ **The hand lashed out again. He was ready for it this time.**_

 _ **Except there were TWO of them.**_

 _ **He'd ducked and dodged the first, swinging cleaver out and deterring the crone, only to find himself caught by a second. She held him down as the first recovered and drew her blade.**_

 _ **And again, he couldn't tell if the screams were his, or theirs.**_

As if sensing Crouch's approach, Harry ducked the man's grasp, dropping low and swinging his empty left hand into the back of the man's calf. The unexpected _strength_ behind the blow tripped the man up, where a shockingly strong kick sent him reeling back, dropping his wand. Harry had twirled on his left heel, and thrust his leg out, catching Crouch right in the nose, sending his head back and to the ground with a loud thud.

 _ **The hand lashed out AGAIN. He ducked it swinging cleaver wide. And then rolled out of the way of the lunging grasp of the second. Lifting his pistol, he fired at the first, stunning her, before hopping forward, ramming his bare hand into her torso, grasping like a feral claw, and ripping through her weakened flesh like a rabid beast.**_

 _ **The spray of blood that coated both him and the wall beside him, filled him with a sick glee.**_

 _ **He wasn't enjoying the Hunt. But he was happy he was learning to survive it.**_

Some part of him recognized he didn't have his pistol. Lost in the memory and reaction as he was. But his hand reached to his pocket, where the knife Sirius gave him that past birthday rest. With shocking speed and horrifying those viewing (save Ollivander who had an unusual look of interest on his face) his right hand lashed out, impaling the woman in the side.

Having swapped hands, his wand was drawn back, as he'd pinned the woman to the wall with his weight (surprisingly enough) and focused his mind on the _arcane_.

He knew, he didn't have his tools. Any of them. Any of the things that had gotten him through **the hunt** , but he remembered them. How they looked and felt.

And that he could replicate them with his wand. Even _then_.

They all watched as the air around his wand seemed to darken. Glittering lights forming slowly, smaller than the tiniest speck of dust, but numerous. The lights began swirling in the inky mist, gathering to the tip of his wand. In less than a second, it looked almost like he was focusing the birth of a small _galaxy_.

It was then that Madame Maxime had decided to attempt to step in…but she was _cowed_ by the _power_ whatever Harry was doing, was emitting.

Power unfamiliar to _any_ of them. Save again, one Garrick Ollivander.

A power that was set to be unleashed on a broken, beaten, stabbed, Rita Skeeter.

" **HARRY STOP!"**

But then… **DUMBLEDORE!**

It was the yell of the familiar voice, the confusing sound of a man he'd only heard raise his voice once, that snapped Harry out of the memory.

And saved Rita Skeeter's life.

The motes of light faded away, the swirling galaxy of power dissipating back to the ether.

He had been making **A Call Beyond** …and for a brief moment, he felt a gentle caress across his mind. Sweet and loving.

And a _little_ bit sticky.

He blinked rapidly, feeling the blood pooling around his hand. Realizing this was _not_ one of the crones. He was not scared. He was not horrified. He was displeased with himself…but not unsurprised.

He'd survived the **Hunt**. You don't just…return from something like that unchanged.

He withdrew his bloody knife, wiping it off on his robe. Rita collapsed down the wall, whimpering, curled up like the _bug_ she was.

"Harry Potter what do you think-

"Can it."

Silenced shock.

He was annoyed, mostly with himself. But really…

Why are any of them so surprised his reaction would be strike first ask questions later?

"I've been in this school for four years and every single year I've barely survived an attack on me. I've almost died an absolute _arseload_ of times and that's _not_ counting Quiddich which I willingly signed up for. We've already established that _someone_ put my name in this _**Kosm-forsaken**_ Goblet either as a sadistic joke or to see me dead. She _grabbed me_ from behind out of nowhere, at a time where I'm already going to be on high-alert cause _someone_ as usual, wants me dead!"

He'd learned to control his emotions.

But control, doesn't mean _seal_.

It means **control** dammit. Including mutating and reinforcing them in odd directions. Such as now, where he was pushing his annoyance with himself into anger, and the anger out towards the _useless adults_ in front of him.

"So don't you _dare_ try to give me _shit_ for defending myself against someone _I've never met_ before, when the whole _damn school_ looks like any _one of them_ is going to stab me in the back for something, **yet again** I didn't have any control over! Or need I remind you of a certain _**ssssassshalasa sssossserasssa!**_ (Heir of Slytherin Incident)"

The sudden shift into Parseltongue, caused _everyone_ to jolt backward in surprise.

Yes, even Dumbledore. It was a very harsh sounding language to ears incapable of processing it. And before this point, Harry had no active interest in speaking it.

It was Harry's luck that kept him alive during the **Hunt**. And being able to speak to snakes…even if it only really had any use on the smaller coiled bundles in those woods, was just another tool for him.

"You have a point, Mister Potter. And I am sorry that I honestly have no words to attempt to counter it. But if you could please explain why Mister Crouch too, is injured?"

Harry blinked, confused.

"Wait wha-

He turned his head, seeing the scowling Crouch holding his bleeding nose.

"There were two…weren't there…?" Harry muttered to himself, pensive.

"…Harry?" Dumbledore hedged gently. Oh yes, Harry Potter had viciously attacked an 'innocent' woman…but he held a fair point. A _very_ fair point. Nobody knew how his name came out of the Goblet, and Harry was already very insistent that he had no part in it doing so. And even if he _had_ , how would he have been able to push through the limited-sentience of the device, to spit out a _fourth_ name?

It could have been anyone, seeing as only the Age Line was its security.

And he was correct, as much as Dumbledore hated to admit it. Harry's life had been placed in danger multiple times, and not by simple accident either. And once again, the whole of the school seemed to be shunning the poor teenager for something out of his control.

It was only a matter of time before the dots were connected, and the correct actions taken. It would merely seem that _now_ was that time.

These were not simple schoolyard jinxes and curses thrown around, after all. He had faced _death_ and barely walked away each time.

He would not reward the boy, in fact he would lightly nudge for him to perhaps see someone for help curbing his reactions.

Nobody needed a second Mad-Eye Moody.

But he would not punish the boy either. Skeeter's injuries could be easily healed even if the stab wound looked fairly nasty, it was a small knife and Harry had misjudged his aim it would seem. Her kidneys would be fine as they were missed. Her arm would be fixed with at worst a few hours of Skele-Gro.

His reactions, given the circumstances, were logical. Alas…if only he'd not been such a fool and fell for the ruse. Sirius would be a good balancing act for the boy…

"Second attacker, relatively unknown." Harry answered. "I've seen him all but once and considering I was focused on what I thought was the bigger threat..." He trailed off.

An astute notion.

"Very well. I'll have Madam Pomfrey take care of Ms. Skeeter. As for Mr. Crouch, if you do not mind, I can solve your problem myself?"

The man grumbled but acquiesced.

Needless to say, the others were fairly wary of Harry after things calmed down and the Ceremony got properly underway. Harry refused the group pictures stating he didn't want to repeat the previous events considering he didn't trust a single person not named Ollivander nor Dumbledore in the room.

After seeing what he did to Skeeter, nobody objected, and only individual pictures were taken.

After which, they were all allowed to leave and continue their day.

Harry skivved off the rest of the day's classes, wandering towards the Astronomy Tower. While the sun was out and thus the Stars could not be seen, something about being near the sky comforted him…ever since the **Hunt**.

It was there, that he encountered a person. Small, with dirty-blonde hair (that in the sunlight looked almost silver), in Hogwarts Robes, staring at the sky, a peaceful look on her face. He froze, not really wanting to disturb such a calm view, understanding personally the need to be alone in serenity, when the strange girl turned to face him.

Even from a distance, he could easily make out her shimmering, moonlike eyes, like pools of lightened silver, framing a pale but not unhealthy face. Around her neck was a string of bottle caps, small radish shaped earrings…

But what caught his attention the most, to the point of almost _enraptured fear-filled joyful sadness_ …

Was the small object resting at the back of her head.

A simple, faded hair ornament, which _if he was_ _ **right**_ was held in place by several time-worn silver teeth.

Yet it was none of those things, that caused the tears to flood.

But how she _greeted_ him.

"Welcome Home, Harry Potter. The Dawn, like your presence, somehow soothes, does it not?"


End file.
